I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
by suzanami
Summary: [Ashita no Nadja: Rosemary x Fernando] The act of giving a flower is not something that applies to their 'relationship', so his gesture left her wanting to decipher his actions.


**I Never Promised You a Rose Garden**

This is a Rosemary Applefield x Fernando Gonzales fic. If certain events of the series didn't occur as they did, Rosemary's life would have most likely played out very differently. This is one possiblity. If you know the characters, you know that Rosemary has a fascination with men in power and a talent for manipulation. Fernando is in a position of power over her (her being a maid in his estate) and has a weak character that she could easily exploit. This is not a happy and fluffy warm-fuzzy pairing; rather, the delicate psychology involved is what makes it so appealing to me. I say all this because the _Ashita no Nadja_ fandom at large seems very sheltered and can't take anything more than Nadja x Keith. There is also widespread Rosemary-hatred, but I am not ashamed to say she's my favorite character from the series.  
As usual with this pairing, it's in a bit of an alternate-reality based on Aiko-chan's established fanon for these two. If you don't see how their relationship could possibly work, I encourage you to read the link. It also helps to set up this story. I hope someone is entertained by this; I just want more _AnN_ fic up here.

* * *

He gave her a rose.

He had said it was because he couldn't find anything else. Then he'd made a joke about her name and walked away before anyone saw him lingering in the laundry room.

She just couldn't believe that he'd given her a flower. Not only was she taken aback by the normally affectionate gesture, she couldn't for the life of her understand why _he_ would give a flower to _her_. Such a thing was usually reserved for young, adoring couples, full of innocence and bright youth. The act of giving a girl a flower didn't apply to their relationship. Master Fernando was not gentle or affectionate or thoughtful. Yet here she was, gingerly holding a rose from him in her hands, trying to avoid pricking herself on its thorns.

Rosemary knew that roses symbolized love - she snorted at the thought - but she also knew that different colors meant different things. That she knew nothing about. When her duties were over, she snuck into the library through the back, running her fingers along the spines of the books as she browsed. There were hundreds of these books, organized by topic, so there had to be _something_ here.

After what seemed like a long time, her fingers finally stopped over a potentially helpful title. Carefully pulling the volume from the shelf, Rosemary leafed through the pages, eyes skimming as quickly as she was able to read. "Ah! There!"

She found a chair in the corner, dimly lit with a lamp that had been forgotten as it burned. She sat for a long time, reading and re-reading the words on the page, trying to apply them to the gift-of-sorts that she'd recieved. She turned her thoughts over and over in her head so long that before she realized it, it was nearly sunset. She hurredly shut the book and replaced it on the shelf, quickly exiting the library. He was expecting her.

Her heart always thudded in her chest when she climbed this particular staircase. Today was different. Today her heart raced because she was nervous for the first time. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she was anxious about seeing him. Usually she looked forward to these visits in a twisted sort of way, though occasionally she just plain didn't want to go. But today her hands were clammy and she felt short of breath. She was fairly sure that she now understood the gesture itself, but she still couldn't place the sentiment behind it.

The maid finally reached the top of the staircase and slowly made her way down his hall. She arrived at his door all too quickly and she hesitated before opening the door and slipping into the room - without knocking, as per usual on these visits.

She stood in the main room of his quarters, one hand in her pocket, clutching at the flower inside so that she was afraid the thorns would draw blood. Having heard the door open and shut, her young master lifted his head from the couch he was reclined on. "Ah, so you decided to come, after all."

Silence was the reply and he sat up fully. He stared at her for what felt like a very long time before she opened her mouth to speak. "You said roses were all you were able to find on such short notice," Rosemary said slowly. "But every aisle of the gardens is filled with at least ten different varieties of flower. I'm sure that you had your pick."

He raised an eyebrow at her, accompanied by a faint semblance of his usual smirk. "Oh?"

She produced the flower in question, letting it hang from her hand at her side. "Roses have a famous symbolism for love. Obviously," she frowned. "That was not the meaning you had in mind. I'm not as stupid as people treat me." She absentmindedly fidgeted with the stem, her long fingers trembling. "Red roses are the most famous for passionate, pure love, but also can mean courage or respect. This rose isn't red, though."

"I can see that," he replied, trying to look bored.

"Yellow roses are also popular, standing for joy, friendship and a general sentiment of caring." She still held his gaze firmly. She was afraid if it faltered, so would her resolve. "This rose isn't yellow."

"You're awfully well-read for a maid."

"Pink roses stand for things like happiness, sweetness, perfection." She scowled. "This rose certainly isn't pink, either."

"I can see what color the flower is." He was still trying to hold up his mask of boredom, but she could see the spark of interest in his eyes. He was proud of himself.

"This rose..." She swallowed before continuing. "Its color can suggest purity, which I don't think was your intent. Nor was the meaning of innocence or reverence." She finally lifted the flower, holding it out as if it was a sword being presented at the start of a duel. "White roses can also suggest keeping a secret."

She finally fell silent, her arm lowering slowly before dropping the snow-white rose to the carpet. She inhaled deeply, still staring at him hard. There was no sound in the room for a few heavy minutes as he returned the gaze just as intently. Finally he stood, making his way to her. Only inches away, she blinked in surprise when he grinned and clapped his hands in a sort of applause.

"Not bad for a maid," he said. "Not bad at all. As I said, you are fairly well-read. Even if you did steal mother's book of symbols from the library, you're diligent."

Rosemary frowned, crossing her arms and relaxing her posture. They'd fallen back into their usual atomosphere. "What was the point of that, anyway?" she demanded, feeling less insecure.

He actually laughed and she almost stepped back, startled. "You're the smart one, girl. If you could figure out what the gesture meant, I'm sure you can figure out what I meant by it. After all, you seem to be quite the detective."

Rosemary wasn't so sure she could get into his mind deeply enough to figure out whatever twisted reasoning he had behind the rose that symbolized secrecy. And the more she thought about it as she glared into his grey stare, the less she wanted to know.

End


End file.
